Chapter 8

<b>Chapter 8: Perhaps it really was a tribulation of love</b>

I had no intention to flee from Liubo after I destroyed the Thousand-Lock Pagoda. Even if I didn’t like this incarnation of Moxi’s very much, I couldn’t let him fall prey to other people. At the very least, I needed to protect him and his purity through this lifetime.

But the old fogies of Liubo didn’t know what to do with me. Neither could they lock me away nor could they defeat me. That night, they lost a mighty lot of hair in distress.

In the end, it was my Moxi who resolutely said: “Lock her behind my residence. I’ll personally keep an eye on her.”

While the crowd hemmed and hawed, I was the first to nod my head, drawing a glower from Moxi.

Once I thought of our living together in the same compound, I generously let go of any complaints I might have had.

Liubo was presently regarded as the Holy Land of the religious community. The Venerable Zhonghua was head of Liubo. By this logic, his residence must not be too shabby.

But by the time I was brought back to his residence, I was almost moved to tears.

A tranquil plum garden that was somewhat incongruent with Liubo emerged behind his majestic residence. It wasn’t yet winter, but the forest was covered in snow. There, red blossoms flowered brilliantly, carrying their fragrance for miles after miles. Everything had apparently been created from magic.

“These… these flowers…” My voice sounded slightly shaky.

Unauthorized individuals were prohibited from entering Zhonghua’s residence, so at this point, there were only the two of us. As he watched the garden filled with plum blossoms, his countenance greatly softened and he answered me in a much better mood: “It’s one of the very few things I like.”

I blinked back the mist in my eyes.

Moxi, Moxi, even though you had drunk Old Meng’s soup, you hadn’t forgotten this muted fragrance and the pureness of snow? You still remembered the quiet plum garden?

The garden was enclosed inside a force field Zhonghua had created to preserve the plum blossoms at its most beautiful on a winter day. Stepping into it was akin to stepping into his enchanted confinement.

I nevertheless gladly let him confine me.

Seeing me walk into his spell, Moxi wasted no word before indifferently turning around to leave. I gazed after his back while gently touching the snow-capped plums. I suddenly returned to a day long, long ago when the white-bearded priest had said to me to the knowing nods of his head: “Love trial.”

Perhaps it really was a tribulation of love.

A stone’s tribulation of love…

Time began to go by in utter ennui after several days of confinement. No matter how beautiful this scenery was, I became sick and tired of looking at it. I thought of asking Moxi to give me a few books so I could keep myself entertained, but I never even saw his shadow after several days of lurking by the force field’s boundary. I was awfully disappointed.

Day after day, I sprawled out by the force field’s boundary to trace circles and call Moxi’s name. Of course, the name I called was Zhonghua.

In spite of my untiring effort, he never once appeared.

But when I finally quit calling him, it only took him a few days to show up.

At that time, I was learning the ancient art of steeping tea using melted snow. Of course, I had no tea, so I cut down a plum bough and used the branch as firewood while cooking the flowers, trying to see whether that many blossoms would yield a pot of porridge.

While I was wondering whether I should cut down another bough, Zhonghua arrived with a forbidding expression on his face.

I waved to him beatifically.

He briskly strode over and glanced at the plum tree I had uprooted, asking: “Are you cooking plum blossoms?”

“Wouldn’t you say this is a lovely activity, Venerable?”

He scoffed: “Is burning the lyre and cooking the crane (1) something delightful in your eyes?”

<ol>

“Well now,” I began in seriousness, “we still have to see what kind of wood the lyre was made from. Good wood will naturally result in fragrant grilled meat. That crane also can’t be too old. Otherwise, killing it wouldn’t be very kosher.”

He took a deep breath and only said after calming down: “You’re not allowed to touch any more of my plums.”

“No can do.” I shook my head with a sense of rightness. Seeing that his face was about to explode, I explained: “It’s